smellcraft

this is for
green ghosts with
modest koans of movement
breath changing shape
eclipsing a future moon
thick moans on edges vast
neon gods in heavy smoke
sweet hollow scents of roots
disappearing into blackwater void
masks of blessing and flame
tickling soft round bellies
of infinite shuddering hills
as freeform tribes
on helpless lovedrunk mules
circle their own stellar
brightly feathered charm

this is for the way
you said my name
and i fell into that teacup
natural ways of
being so many shadows
beneath so many leaves
spilling over desperate
modern spells
giggling in fountains in
woods around pyramids
leaving it all behind
because i'm not going anywhere
not without a new language
not without being stoned
in some new way
an eagle
disappearing